Each morning, I picture my 5-year-old, Max, lying in bed, concocting an elaborate scheme to make our preschool drop-off as challenging as possible. Perhaps she thinks, “Should I go for the dramatic cling or the aloof shrug today? Oh, I know! I’ll just announce to the teachers that Mom accidentally yelled at the cat last night while she’s standing right there.” There must be some mischievous strategy behind her antics, turning an already tough situation into a daily emotional rollercoaster.
Max has attended the same preschool with the same teachers for two and a half years, so she knows the routine by heart. Yet, every day brings uncertainty. It’s like she’s playing a game, leaving me guessing about her feelings—does she adore me so much that she can’t bear to be away for a second, or is she indifferent to my absence? The truth is, I can never be sure!
Monday Mornings
Monday mornings are the hardest. Trust me; I’m an experienced drop-off parent. I maintain my composure, never looking back, and I put on a brave face. “I won’t cry today!” she declares with a confidence I’ve heard countless times before during our two hundred Monday morning drives. “Neither of us will cry because we’ll see each other soon and have amazing days ahead!” I try to elevate my errands to a heroic quest.
But when I see her face crumple as I turn to leave, I know it’s going to be a disaster. It’s as if she believes that if she cries hard enough, I might change my mind. “You love school!” I urge, but she wraps her little arms around my leg like an octopus. When the tears begin to flow and she says, “I’ll miss you,” I’m tempted to scoop her up and flee. Alas, her kind teacher pries her off me, taking my heart along as I close the door behind me.
The Importance of Preschool
Despite the heartache, I continue taking her to preschool. I believe it’s essential for her development—and let’s be honest, I need some time to recharge too. Wednesdays have become my “Bribery Rejuvenation Day.” “I definitely won’t cry if you bring me chocolate chip cookies after school!” she asserts. “Have I really stooped to bribing you now?” I wonder, contemplating how long she’s been plotting this strategy as if she’s a miniature villain in training.
By Friday, she hardly acknowledges my presence. She walks in and dives straight into her art project, acting like I’m a ghost. “Can I get a wave? Maybe a nod? A tiny acknowledgment for teaching you how to speak and use the bathroom?” I can’t help but feel a bit hurt. I sacrificed nine months of avoiding deli meat and wine for this? Sure, I’m relieved she’s not sobbing, but a little gratitude wouldn’t hurt.
Reflections on Drop-Off
At home, I try to discuss our drop-off adventures, but I’m not sure we’re making progress. She thinks I should bribe her more often, while I suspect she’s expertly manipulating my emotions. I realize I might be handling this all wrong, but for now, bribery seems like my best strategy.
Next year, she’ll be riding the bus to kindergarten. I can’t wait to see how that goes!